No Gentleman for Georgina

by Jess Michaels

  Her eyes flashed with something akin to disappointment, but she didn’t answer. She merely cupped the back of his head and drew him down for another of those deep, drugging kisses.

  He took that as an agreement and went back to teasing her breast. Her gown was fine, but the silk was very thin and he could feel her nipple tightening, rising to meet him. How he wished he could strip her gown away and see it, memorize its color and shape, its taste. But they had no time for such slow seduction. And the wax exhibit, with all the figures watching them, was not the place.

  Resigning himself to that fact, he let his hand drift lower, across her flat stomach and to her hip. She arched a little, murmuring incoherent sounds of encouragement even as her cheeks flushed. Of course they would. No one had ever touched her so intimately. A thought that gave him another shiver of desire.

  He ignored it, ignored his own needs, and focused on her. He drew back and watched her as he slid his hand down her leg and began to inch her skirt up. Her eyes went wide, but she did nothing to stop him. Her breath was ragged and her hands trembled.

  “You said you wanted something just for you,” he whispered. “To do something for your pleasure that would be for no one else.”

  She nodded, staring at his hand before he slipped it beneath her skirt and started the slow caress back up her calf, her knee. When he touched her thigh, she let out a garbled moan.

  “I can give you something just for you. Only you and I will know. I want to do that so much, Georgina. Will you let me?”

  She froze as his fingers opened the slit in her drawers and he settled his palm against her sex. He held there, waiting for her permission. Silently pleading for it even though he would withdraw in a heartbeat if she refused.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “Please do it.”

  He grinned and moved, letting his index finger trace the slit of her sex gently. She was already wet and so hot against him. He wanted to dive into her, slide his cock to the hilt, claim her.

  But there wasn’t a place for him there. So all he could do was make her come and store her look, the feel of her sex around him. That would be enough to feed his fantasies for many lonely years to come.

  He pressed a thumb against her clitoris and she jolted. She jolted again when he glided one finger into her entrance. She flexed around him, tight and slick, and he nearly came without even being touched.

  “God, you are amazing,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. She relaxed at that now-familiar caress and only when she went limp did he begin to move his finger inside of her. He swirled around her clitoris with his thumb and pumped his finger in time.

  Slowly, she began to moan with pleasure at the action. Then she lifted her hips to meet him. He took his time, allowing her to experience the intimacy of this breach, the building pleasure of his touch. He could see her working toward orgasm and he was mesmerized by it.

  “Paul,” she whispered, her eyes going wide just as she went over the edge. Her body spasmed around his fingers and her back arched as she let out a low, keening cry. He continued to work at her, drawing the pleasure out for both their benefit, and only withdrew when she collapsed, weak and spent, against the settee cushions.

  He stared down at her, her eyes filled with satiated drowsiness. She smiled up at him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh, I’m so glad to have felt such a thing.”

  The words seeped into him. She meant them, of course. He could see that she did. But the reality of what he had just done was becoming increasingly clear. Paul did not act impulsively. He had not done so for years. But touching Georgina, claiming her, even in this small scale, was impulsive beyond his wildest imaginings.

  Now she looked at him in pleasure, but certainly tomorrow she would regret allowing him such liberties. When she took a husband and that man was not the first to pleasure her, she would think of Paul not with kindness, but regret.

  What had he been thinking allowing his unrequited feelings for this woman to make him forget his place?

  “I’m sorry, Georgina,” he murmured as he smoothed her gown back over her legs and stood. He offered her a hand to stand up and she took it with a blank, confused expression.

  “Sorry?” she repeated as she watched him back away. He didn’t trust himself to stand so close, not when he could smell her on his fingers. Taste her on his lips. “Why are you sorry?”

  “I went too far—”

  “No!” she gasped out, the high color of release leaving her cheeks in an instant, replaced by chalky paleness.

  “Yes, Georgina,” he said softly.

  She stared at him for a long moment and her emotions flitted across her face as plainly as if they had been written in the darkest ink. He saw pain, disappointment, embarrassment.

  He had done this to her. Because he hadn’t been in control of himself as he should have been. Because he had wanted to take pleasure from giving her the same. And oh, how he had.

  But it had been a selfish act in the end.

  “You don’t want me.” She turned away. “I did something wrong, I’m not experienced enough or pretty enough or—”

  He stepped toward her with a gasp. “No, that isn’t it.” With a shiver, he reached out to touch her arm and turned her to face him once more. “Georgina, I swear to you, there is nothing wrong with you. I was wrong.”

  “But what about everything you said before?” she pressed.

  He shook his head. “All true, I fear. I do care for you, Georgina. And I did want to do this for you. I wanted to do it for me. But I should have thought it through. I was my duty to you to think it through.”

  “Paul—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “I am a practical man, Georgina. I must be. I know my place in this world and I’m not ashamed of it.” He tilted his head, looking at her closely. Drinking her in. “But your father would never accept me.”

  She sucked in a breath as if she finally understood how deeply Paul cared. He wished she didn’t. It made him feel exposed. And it was not a set of emotions that would end in anything but disappointment.

  “We could talk to him,” she suggested, but her voice was weak.

  He smiled at her gently and reached out to trace her silken cheek with his rough finger. “Talk until you are blue, Georgina. We both know he doesn’t even like us to be friends, let alone for me to offer for you. And he is right that you deserve more than anything I could give. No, we had this moment.” He shook his head. “I stole this moment, Georgina. But it was selfish of me to do so and I hope you can forgive me.”

  She stared at him for so long without speaking that he was about to move on her a second time. But finally she straightened up, steel coming into her eyes, and whispered, “If you want to convince yourself that what just happened was wrong, I certainly am in no position to stop you. But you cannot take away my feelings on this moment we shared, not stole. And if you try, Paul Abbot, that is what I will never forgive you for.”

  He was silent, unable to think of what to say to her. But finally she turned away and began to stroll back into the exhibit area.

  “Now, I would like to finish my tour, if you don’t mind.”

  He followed her, his heart aching from the passion they had shared and the strength she had exhibited. But mostly from the fact that he loved her, and now that he had let the feeling loose in the world, he realized he could never pretend it didn’t exist again.

  Georgina smiled at her maid a final time as the girl finished dressing her the next morning.

  “Will there be anything else, miss?” Molly asked.

  Georgina shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

  Her maid bobbed out a nod and then slipped from the room, leaving Georgina to stare at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t stopped thinking of her night with Paul since it had ended just a few hours ago. No one had been the wiser about her escape and return. At least she didn’t believe they had. She could easily just pretend the night
had never happened.

  Except she wouldn’t.

  She had played every moment they shared over and over in her head for hours. She hadn’t slept, she hadn’t stopped and she hadn’t been able to keep a burgeoning plan from developing in her mind. A plan she was certain no one in the world would ever approve of.

  And yet for the first time, she didn’t give a damn. She had finally admitted to herself the truth that had been there all along.

  She was in love with Paul Abbot. She had always been attracted to him, of course. But it was more than that. Over the years as they shared more, talked more, as she grew to know him more, attraction had given way to love.

  And now that she had experienced his passion, his caring, his regard, she wasn’t about to lose it.

  She straightened her skirt one last time and marched downstairs to the breakfast room where she knew Annabelle and Marcus awaited her arrival. As she stepped into the room, she stopped. Annabelle was seated at the table and Marcus leaned over her. They were kissing.

  For the first time, Georgina understood the passion between them, she understood the love, and she turned away, not in embarrassment, but in jealousy. Her friend already had what Georgina, herself, wanted.

  And Georgina was damned well going to try to get the same.

  “Oh, goodness,” Annabelle said, breaking from Marcus as she noticed Georgina at the door. “I’m sorry, we didn’t see you there.”

  “Clearly,” Georgina said, her tone dry as a fall leaf.

  Marcus chuckled as he motioned Georgina to a seat. She ignored him and instead paced over to the sideboard as she perused the food she had no interest in eating. This was all an exercise in futility. She was only trying to work up her courage, after all. A tall feat considering she had never allowed herself to have much of that trait.

  “Are you well?” Annabelle asked as she stood and took a step toward Georgina. “You look very tired.”

  Georgina pivoted and looked at her two friends. They cared about her they would not judge her. In truth they were her best and probably only hope. She screwed up her nerve and forced herself to speak at last.

  “Do you recall when I foolishly tried to help you with your respectability problem, Annabelle?”

  Annabelle blinked and said, “Er, yes. Thank you.”

  Georgina reached up to press her cold hands against her hot cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it was foolish to help you. More that perhaps the notion of respectability was foolish.”

  Annabelle moved on her and pulled Georgina’s hands away from her face to hold them. “What is going on, Georgina? You seem very upset.”

  Georgina shook the comforting touch away. She needed to feel her discomfort. It helped drive her on.

  “I never understood why you threw everything you could have away on Mr. Rivers.” She looked at Marcus, who was shaking his head and laughing at the other end of the table. “Don’t misunderstand me, Marcus—you are very handsome, of course. And the more I came to know you, the more I have realized what a truly decent man you are.”

  He reacted as if physically wounded. “You slander me, woman. I am not decent at all.”

  Annabelle smiled at his quip. “Oh, hush. Clearly Georgina is upset. Why don’t you take your eggs and go bother someone else for a bit.”

  Georgina shook her head. “Oh no, please don’t go! I…I actually need to speak to you both, as humiliating an exercise as this is going to be. You see, I need your help.”

  Now Marcus straightened up in his chair and the teasing left his eyes. “Our help,” he repeated. “Georgina what is it? Are you in trouble?”

  “No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know.” She turned away, trying to gather her thoughts. Confession was truly much harder than she’d thought it would be. Especially when her heart and mind were so tangled. “Let me try to explain.”

  Annabelle motioned her to the table and sat beside her. She laid a hand on hers. “Take your time. We aren’t going anywhere.”

  Marcus nodded as he got up and moved closer to take the place on her other side. The two of them simply stared, waiting.

  Georgina took a long, deep breath. “Do you know the wax exhibit has returned to London?”

  Annabelle nodded. “Oh yes, I had heard about that. It’s wonderful! You should go, you would love it.”

  Georgina blushed as she pondered what those lifeless wax figures had witnessed just a few hours before. “I wanted to. My father refused to allow it. That was why I was so upset when I came here a few days ago.”

  “Ah, I had been wondering. You were nearly hysterical when you arrived and then you just left without explanation.” Annabelle’s brow wrinkled. “I could talk to him. Or arrange for an outing with my brother and Serafina. He would not deny the duke and duchess, would he?”

  Georgina shook her head. “I mentioned it to Paul that day, you see,” she continued, ignoring Annabelle’s suggestion. “And he said he could help me have a private viewing of the collection.”

  Both Annabelle and Marcus were suddenly silent, staring at Georgina as if she had sprouted a second head which only spoke Latin.

  “What? Why do you look at me that way?” she stammered.

  Marcus lifted both eyebrows. “Abbot. Paul Abbot. Who works for me?”

  She nodded. “One and the same.”

  Annabelle seemed as shocked as her husband apparently was. “I have never known Abbot to break a rule in his life. Did he arrange it?”

  “Yes.” She tried to find her breath but it was becoming almost impossible. “I’m afraid I used my coming here as a ruse. Last night after everyone went to bed, I snuck out to meet him and he took me there.”

  Marcus’s eyes went even wider. “Paul Abbot.”

  Annabelle shot him a look. “Stop repeating his name, dear. Go on, Georgina.”

  She clasped her shaking hands before her. “It was wonderful, everything I had hoped it would be. But then Paul admitted…he said… he told me that he has feelings for me.”

  “Paul Abbot,” Marcus muttered, shaking his head in continued disbelief.

  “Paul,” she reassured him. “Still Paul Abbot.”

  “And what did you say to him?” Annabelle asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, softly, as if a whisper would help.

  Annabelle’s face fell. “Oh, poor Paul. And poor you. How awkward to—”

  “No, you misunderstand,” Georgina interrupted. “I didn’t say nothing because I rejected him. I said nothing because I-I kissed him.”

  “You what?” Marcus and Annabelle exclaimed in unison.

  Georgina dropped her gaze to the table and her hands clenched on it. “I-I have also had feelings for him since nearly the first moment we met, you see.”

  “We are idiots,” Annabelle said after a moment of stunned silence had passed between the friends.

  “I’m not an idiot,” Marcus retorted.

  Annabelle glared at him. “Did you know?”

  He shrugged. “No.”

  “Then we are idiots,” she insisted. “How did we not see? How did Serafina and Gemma and even Mary not see when we are such good friends?”

  “What happened next?” Marcus asked.

  Georgina blinked, slightly flummoxed by the banter of the couple. Equally turned upside down by what she had to say next. Honesty was her best course of action now, of course, but it was still rather embarrassing to consider it.

  “Well, we—he—we—” She struggled, her blush burning her cheeks as she thought of Paul touching her so intimately.

  Marcus jumped up from his seat. “Great God! Paul Abbot?”

  Georgina turned her face. “Well, we didn’t…it didn’t go irrevocably far. But things between us did turn most passionate.”

  Annabelle’s gentle fingers closed over hers again, and when Georgina dared to look at her, she saw not censure, but understanding and empathy in her friend’s bright eyes. Annabelle smiled softly. “How can we hel
p?”

  Georgina drew a sharp breath. “I want to be with Paul. I always have—he is my ideal man, you see.”

  “Paul Abbot?” Marcus said, this time his tone full of questioning that inspired defensiveness in Georgina.

  “Yes, Paul Abbot. He and I always have such stimulating conversation. He looks at me and he truly sees me. Other men, they size me up. What could a union with me bring them, what is my dowry, who is my father? Paul just sees me. And he’s devilishly handsome, surely even you can see that.”

  Marcus blinked and Georgina huffed out a breath.

  “He is handsome,” Annabelle reassured her.

  “Finally, you two show some reasonability,” Georgina sighed. “No one has lived up to Paul’s example since the moment I met him. But I always convinced myself he thought nothing of me beyond a bare kindness. Now that I know he cares for me, the situation is increasingly dire.”

  “Why?” Annabelle encouraged her.

  Tears flooded Georgina’s eyes. “My father will never allow for anything between Paul and me. He with his Debrett’s and his dukes and his earls? He would never accept Paul as my husband, no matter how I pleaded or proved to him that Paul is worthy.”

  Marcus pinched his lips. “I often do not understand your class,” he sniffed.

  Annabelle glared at him. “Love, we can discuss the unfairness later. Right now we must focus on Georgina. I don’t know how Marcus or I could help convince your father to give you what you wanted. After all, we aren’t titled.”

  “You couldn’t,” Georgina admitted, ready to get to the most desperate part of her plan. “I would like to arrange for a…a seduction. Paul Abbot and I need to be caught in a compromising position together that will require our marriage. And I need you two to help me arrange it.”

  Annabelle slipped her hand away with a gasp of shock and Marcus swore as he got up and paced to the window, his back to them.

  “Unless you don’t approve of the match either?” Georgina asked, suddenly very aware of her failings. “You don’t think I’m good enough for Paul?”

  “It isn’t that,” Marcus said, turning on his heel. “When I think of it, your studious, quiet natures would likely suit very well. And if Paul cares for you, if he…somehow allowed something between you to become heated, I would guess that he would like to marry you, too. He would never do such a thing unless he was very serious.”